Fractured Psyches
by Sue Penkivech
Summary: Set after Golgotha, various XMen confront deal with the aftermath. But were their fears created by the alien creature, or merely brought to the surface? And just how real are they?
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men, much though I might wish otherwise. Thus, I'm making absolutely no money using their characters and plots as a start-off point. Thanks to Beaubier for beta-reading awesomeness, and to Jen1703 for convincing me to write it!

Fractured Psyches

Prologue

_The dream was always the same._

_Monsters out of some B-rated horror movie, pooling together into some sort of collective. He hung there, in space, watching them explode themselves. He should've been happy, he knew, relieved that they were self-destructing, rejoicing that humanity was safe from yet another bizarre alien threat._

_Instead, he was panicked, his eyes scanning past them, searching until they finally found the limp figure they were seeking._

_Lorna. A lump formed in his throat, choking him as he called out to her through his communicator and got no response. God, he had to get to Lorna. _

_It seemed like hours, an eternity even. Despite the vacuum of space, it was like walking through quicksand, each step labored, and he knew, just knew, he was going to be too late, though he wasn't entirely sure just where his conviction was coming from, or what he was afraid he might find. Finally, after a hellish eternity, he grabbed her arm to turn her so she was facing him._

_And she stared at him, unseeing, her mouth hanging open, her expression blank. He was already too late._

"Lorna!" he shouted, eyes popping open abruptly to stare at the ceiling without seeing it. Shaking, his hands fisted in the sheets, clinging to them as he'd clung to her space suit in the dream…

"Shhhh," he heard as a warm hand clamped onto his arm. "I'm here, Bobby. It's okay."

Nodding, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Just a dream; Lorna was okay. He reopened them slowly, a lopsided smile forming on his face as he turned his head to look at the voice's owner.

"Sorry, hon," he said sheepishly, hand stretching out to stroke her shoulder. She was dressed in Shi-ar enhanced, insulated spandex - the only way they'd found, so far, to keep her from getting frostbite, just being near him. She claimed she didn't mind.

He did.

"Golgotha again?" she asked hesitantly, and he nodded, pushing himself upright.

"Yeah. Same old, same old. Trust me to be consistent at least, hey?" he joked feebly, sighing as her hand moved to his back.

"Yeah, trust you for that," she agreed, and he turned his head, chuckling softly at the amused expression on her face.

"Is that why you keep me around, then?" he asked, running one icy finger down her face lightly.

Lorna rolled her eyes, then smirked at him. "Must be," she retorted. "It's definitely not so I can get uninterrupted sleep, after all," but the smile that formed almost immediately took the bite from her words.

Wrinkling his nose, he dropped his hand to her shoulder and squeezed it gently. "That's not what you said last month," he countered, raising his eyebrows and smiling back. "Something about you having nightmares?"

"Yeah well, it worked, didn't it?" she replied, shrugging casually, and he let out a snort of laughter at the smug look on her face. "I just needed someone to sleep with, that was all. You make a good teddy bear."

Bobby rolled his eyes, then laughed and shook his head. "I make a cold teddy bear. I'm thinking your room was just too warm and you wanted air conditioning - hey!" he protested as she thwapped his arm, hard.

"Stop that," she snapped, then sighed, reaching out to stroke fingers down his face. "Sorry. You know I hate that."

"Yeah, I know," he admitted, shrugging. He knew, it wasn't as if it didn't come up often enough. But while Lorna'd more or less dug him out of the depression he'd sunk into after his secondary mutation made itself known, he still wasn't happy about the situation. Even less so since they'd gotten back together, after all the years they'd spent apart. Sighing, he closed his eyes, enjoying the heat of her fingers against what passed for his skin these days. He was pathetic, really, and he knew it. But he missed being touched, even though he honestly couldn't blame anyone for not wanting to. It amazed him, constantly, that Lorna was even interested in him, even if it was purely for emotional support. He just wished it could be more than that.

"So," she asked with obviously fake airiness, averting her eyes, "What'd Alex do to me this time?"

Bobby shook his head, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and urging her back down, trying to push away the mental image that formed before his eyes. "Doesn't matter. Come on, let's go back to sleep," he replied hopefully, but was unsurprised when she shook her head, bangs flopping forward over her eyes only to be flipped back with a toss of her head.

"Bobby, do you honestly think he'd…" she began, cutting off as he shook his head.

"Of course not," he lied, what he hoped was a reassuring smile forming on his face as she settled back against his arm, then let him urge her down to the bed. "It was just Golgotha talking, hon. Alex is a prick, but not that big of one."

Lorna smirked as she closed her eyes. "You can say that again".

He chuckled as he settled next to her, closing his as well. "More info than I needed," he joked as he wrapped his arm over her.

Grinning, she snuggled closer, her fingers tracing lines on his chest for a while until they finally stilled, her breathing drifting into the soft cadences of sleep.

Bobby reopened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He hoped he was wrong. Because, as his ever more frequent nightmares indicated, he was nearly positive Alex Summers was exactly that big a prick. And he couldn't for the life of him figure out what to do about it.


	2. Chapter 1

Fractured Psyches

Chapter 1

Setting the papers aside on his desk, Alex sighed. Paperwork. Scott had gotten awfully obsessed with paperwork since becoming headmaster - mission reports, status reports, fitness reports. It was almost like working for the government again. Possibly worse.

He blamed Emma.

He looked over at the pile containing the last of the forms, and picked up the one on the top.

Polaris. Lorna Dane.

His jaw clenched involuntarily, hand tightening its hold on the paper. Lorna wasn't recovering from her experiences in Genosha as well, or as quickly, as he might have hoped. Still subject to fugue states, emotional outbursts, evidencing serious lapses in judgment. Possibly hallucinating, given her recent allegation that something, who knew what, had "stared straight at her".

He couldn't understand any of it. It was just so at odds with the Lorna Dane he'd known all these years, lived with, nearly married. The one who'd bounced back with barely a blink from repeated episodes of possession, mind control, manipulation. She was like a stranger now, he realized, a lump forming in his throat, nearly choking him.

He knew who to blame for that too, he reminded himself as he set down the fitness report that stated she was making excellent progress, unconsciously ironing out the wrinkles with his hand. The irksome, annoying, childish idiot otherwise known as Bobby Drake. The bane of his existence nearly from the moment he'd awoken from his coma. He persisted in coddling her, patronizing her, taking advantage of her temporary instability to reinsert himself into her affections. Poisoning her against him, just as he'd somehow managed to do with Annie.

Not that Bobby honestly cared about Lorna. No, Alex was a bigger man than that. Had Bobby held legitimate feelings for Lorna, been good for her, he would have stepped aside. Not gladly, perhaps - he'd loved her far, far too long for that. But willingly, had that been what Lorna wanted.

But no, there was no reason to believe that Bobby honestly harbored any real feelings for his former girlfriend, or that Lorna was in any condition to make responsible decisions for herself at this time. It was painfully obvious that Drake's actions were a deliberate act of revenge against _him_ for having proven himself the better man nearly a decade before. For having done so again, scant months before, when Annie had chosen him over the little icy moron.

He'd poisoned Annie against him, first. How, he didn't know, as the brunette emphatically insisted that he, not Bobby, had been the reason she'd left. Alex didn't believe a word of it. And now, Bobby had cold-heartedly turned his attention to Lorna, determined to do the same with her.

Standing so abruptly his chair teetered a few times before settling back on its wheels, Alex snatched the pile of fitness reports off his desk and headed off to Scott's rooms, the door closing emphatically behind him. This time, his brother was going to listen.

* * *

"Alex."

"Emma," he countered in greeting, inclining his head in recognition, then meeting the gaze of his brother's girlfriend levelly as she stood in the doorway of their shared quarters, her hand resting nonchalantly on the door jam. Somehow, Emma seemed to take up far more room than should've been physically possible through sheer presence alone. Scott had much the same knack.

Alex didn't, he knew. And it rankled deeply that she did.

"What brings you here?" she asked, tilting one perfectly manicured eyebrow ever so slightly as she stepped out of the doorframe, gesturing for him to enter.

"I need to talk to Scott about the team," he replied, eyes casting around the room. "Is he here?"

"In his office downstairs," Emma replied dismissively as he turned to look at her and saw the pointed expression on her face. "I do hope this isn't going to be just another whining session, Alexander. He's very busy today. Perhaps it's something you'd care to discuss with me instead?"

"No, it's not going to be a whining session," Alex informed her coolly, then took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax. He had no real problem with Emma, not really. Well, none except that she'd recently tried to kill him, but that had been the influence of the Golgotha creature, not really _her_. And the "relationship counseling" that seemed to land Gambit, Rogue, or both in the infirmary on a semi-regular basis of late, though he had to concede that the unresolved sexual tension between them negatively impacted the team dynamic. And then, there was the fact he kept expecting to see a ring in Scott's nose, considering the way she seemed to be pulling his brother's strings lately.

Well, ok. Maybe he did have a problem with Emma. But damned if he was about to admit it.

"I'm here to talk to Scott about the fitness reports," he replied calmly, rather proud of the casual smile he managed. "I'll just pop down to his office, then."

He forced himself not to tense as she assumed an almost amused expression. "It won't work, you know," she observed, settling down on the couch, draping her arm across the low back.

"What won't?" he asked, eyes narrowing slightly in confusion.

"Your campaign to remove Robert from the team," she replied, picking an imaginary speck of dust from her immaculate white trousers. "Scott's quite fond of him in his own way, and inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt. And I," again, her smile bordered on amused, "well, suffice to say that Robert has long been something of a protégé of mine. Perhaps your time would be better spent engaging in other pursuits? Which reminds me," she added, and he watched, his face impassive, as she leaned forward slightly once again, arching an eyebrow. "Whatever happened to that cute little nurse you were so fond of? Honestly, she could have at least given notice before scampering off to parts unknown. It's so difficult to find decent help these days, don't you think?"

"Annie," he replied through clenched teeth, "decided the Institute was an unsafe environment for Carter to grow up in. As you know. And while I appreciate your insight into the situation, when last I checked Scott was still making the final decisions on team complements. Or have you relieved him of that responsibility, too?" he asked, giving her a pointed look designed to let her know that he was on to her little game. He simply ignored the rest of her allegations for the moment, bracing himself with the certainty that Iceman's behavior on the last mission was certain cause for concern at the very least. Obviously, his secondary mutation had seriously de-hinged him. Yes, that was the approach he would use with Scott, setting aside any personal issues. Drake had attacked him, recently, more than once. Certainly sufficient cause for disciplinary action.

Instead of becoming defensive as he expected, however, Emma simply laughed delightedly and got to her feet.

"So, you intend to go to Scott and accuse me of helping him?" Emma asked. "Feel free, by all means, Alex. You're quite right, however - the team complement _is_ his domain, not mine. So if you'll excuse me?" she added casually heading off toward the other room of the suite. "I'm afraid I'm late for an appointment with my advisees, and I really must change. Feel free to show yourself out," she added, closing the bedroom door behind her, leaving Alex staring angrily at the closed door.

* * *

Lorna kept her attention focused straight ahead on the far wall of the hallway as she passed through the throng of mingling students. Trying to ignore the furtive glances, the whispers as long-term students identified her to the newer ones.

Lorna Dane. Polaris. The crazy bitch who'd tried to kill the school nurse and who'd knocked out all the faculty. The daughter of the former ruler of Genosha, who'd later tried to level New York.

Lorna. The crazy X-Man. Not exactly a title she'd ever aspired to.

Of course, she admitted as she wrapped her arms more tightly around herself, eyes dropping to watch her feet as she continued down the hall, she'd never truly aspired to any title at all. Or to a codename, for that matter. She would've been perfectly happy, thank you very much, had she remained ignorant of her latent mutant potential and not spent the last ten years having her mind controlled by every two-bit telepath the X-Teams had ever encountered.

An overstatement? Possibly. But not anywhere near as much of one as she'd have preferred. And some days, when the voices of thousands of dying Genoshans haunted her mind, she half-wished another telepath would wander through and take over, just for the relief.

Days like today.

She'd had a nightmare again the night before, the first since she'd moved into Bobby's room. Whether it had been sparked by his dream or not she had no idea, but she'd woken trembling with fear, a vision of Alex's hard-set face swimming before her eyes and accusations that everything that had happened in Genosha had been her fault echoing in her ears.

Which, in a way, she still felt it was. They'd practically worshipped her – her! - when she arrived there to confront Magneto about her paternity. In fact, they'd welcomed her as the heir presumptive of their homeland. It'd been staggering, more than a little captivating.

She'd still been trying to sort out her feelings, her anger at Magnus warring with the undeniable attraction of the people's adoration when the Sentinels arrived. She'd been unable to stop them from massacring the Genoshans, despite their cries for her to save them. Unable to do anything at all, despite a newfound conviction, formed in the ashes of the last hope of so many, that her father, Magneto, had been right all along. The humans would never, ever leave them in peace. Not unless forced to do so.

And, despite that, she'd turned her back on the people and run like a frightened child, just as she had from Alex's accusations in her dream.

She'd awoken from her nightmare shaking, clinging to Bobby, relieved that he merely shifted in his sleep to wrap his arm over her. He'd been sleeping poorly enough since Golgotha; he didn't need her waking him up, though she knew he'd be upset if he knew that he hadn't. But she'd gone back to sleep within minutes, snuggled up underneath his warm arm.

His arm had been warm.

The implications struck her suddenly, and she stopped walking, totally unaware of the stares of passers-by, no doubt wondering whether or not she'd gone off into another fugue state. She hadn't imagined it, though she wished she'd thought to open her eyes at the time, rather than simply having let the warmth and security lull her back to sleep. Not just not-freezing, thanks to the benefit of insulated unstable molecules. Warm.

It'd happened before, a few times. She'd woken, late in the night, and opened her eyes to find a flesh and blood Bobby Drake curled up with her. She'd doubted it then, especially after he'd assured her that she must have been dreaming. But this time she knew, with full certainty, that she hadn't imagined it. Which meant…

God, she wasn't entirely sure _what_ it meant, actually. Screwing her eyes shut, she rubbed at the bridge of her nose as she considered the implications of a warm, almost definitely flesh and blood Bobby, who'd wrapped his arm over her during the night but woken up ice in the morning.

"You okay, Lorna?" she heard from behind her, and she dropped her hand from her face, forcing a slight smile as she turned to look at Rogue. The concern on the other woman's face was unmistakable and unsurprising.

After all, even her teammates knew she was the crazy X-Man.

"Just a sudden headache," she lied, pushing her hair back from her face and watching as Rogue crinkled her nose in sympathy.

"I hate those," the southerner replied, and Lorna let out an internal sigh of relief that she'd been willing to take the excuse at face value. "They just go and sneak up on ya outta nowhere sometimes. If you want, I can walk ya down to see Hank - I swear that man has somethin' in that lab of his that can fix near anything."

Lorna shook her head, feeling vaguely guilty about lying to Rogue, but knowing with full certainty that if she told the other woman the truth Rogue would just give her that look, the one she'd seen far too many times on far too many faces. That she'd then go on to explain, as if to a child, just why and how it was impossible, and try to convince her that it had been a dream, or a hallucination, or some other dysfunction of her generally dysfunctional mind.

Or…perhaps she wouldn't. But Lorna wasn't prepared to take the chance, not until she'd had an opportunity to think things through.

"No, it's gone now," she replied instead, ignoring the skeptical look Rogue shot her way.

"If ya say so," Rogue replied. "Y'know, Lorna, if you need to talk 'bout anything…" her voice tapered off as her gaze shifted to look over Lorna's shoulder, and Lorna turned to follow her gaze.

Lovely. Alex was storming across the hallway, a sheaf of papers in his hand. Lorna tried to suppress the sudden sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach and turned back to Rogue. Based on something Alex had mentioned in passing the day before, she had a pretty good idea what those papers were. And, most likely, why Alex was storming.

"Well, someone's got a bee in his shorts," she heard Rogue exclaim.

Lorna shrugged, grimacing. "Fitness reports," she stated flatly. "It's been nice working with you, Rogue," she added as she turned to walk away. She wasn't entirely sure why she'd been allowed to remain on the team as long as she had, but she strongly suspected some directive of Xavier's, prior to his departure. With him long gone…well, she knew as well as anyone that she was unsuited for missions. If nothing else, Golgotha had proven that.

"Lorna, wait!" Rogue called out.

Sighing, Lorna paused just long enough for Rogue to catch up, letting the other woman catch her wrist and spin her around by it, though she had no idea why she bothered. It was painfully self-evident that Alex was going to remove her from the team, if for no other reason than her adamant refusal to talk about what she'd seen in space. Nothing Rogue said could possibly change that, or make it hurt any less. The best she could realistically hope for at this point was that it wouldn't change Bobby's feelings for her once they were no longer working together. Despite their rather chaotic history, he'd been her lifeline to sanity, thus far.

She wasn't entirely sure what would happen to her without that. And she was really in no hurry to find out, now.

"You got no idea that's what Alex is upset about," Rogue asserted. "And you really need to stop this, y'know. Land sakes, you're no crazier than I am, running around with everyone else's voices in my head."

"Try a few million and then get back to me," Lorna snapped, instinctively pushing the other woman backwards with a forcefield, then shook her head and took a deep breath, squashing down her embarrassment as she watched Rogue catch her balance several feet away. "I'm sorry," she said in all honesty, dropping her eyes to the floor once again, her anger fleeing as quickly as it had surfaced.

"Maybe you should cut back on the caffeine, girl," Rogue grumbled.

Despite everything, Lorna smiled faintly as she looked up at her obviously unconcerned teammate. "Bobby says I need my meds checked," she volunteered with a hint of a smile. Somehow, despite the fact that she _knew_ that should annoy her, it never really did. Other than the knowledge that he was probably right, which was irritating enough in itself.

"Yeah well, what does the walking popsicle know, anyway?" Rogue chuckled in turn. "He's one to talk, the way he was sulkin' his way around here for a couple of months. Talk about someone who could've used a high dosage of Prozac."

"He had cause," Lorna began, bristling defensively, but Rogue waved her hand dismissively.

"Not arguin' that, just saying - the way he was moping around and mood swinging, you'd've thought he was dying. Or pregnant," she added, and Lorna looked up to see a grin on the other woman's face. "That would have made the papers, I bet. But I swear, if I'd been around more at the time, I would've knocked some sense into the boy. 'least you've managed to convince the dork that bein' stuck as ice ain't -"

"He's not," Lorna blurted out, then raised her hand to her face and shook her head. So much for not bringing that up. Nonetheless, it was almost a relief to have the subject breached. She really wanted to talk it over with someone; someone _other_ than Bobby, until she could get some idea as to what was going on. In any case, it wasn't all that likely Rogue would believe her.

"What'dya mean, he's not?" the other woman asked.

Lorna dropped her hand, surprised by the annoyance in Rogue's voice. Of anyone at the Institute other than Hank, she would have expected Rogue to be the most relieved that things might not be as they seemed. Instead, her teammate sounded indignant.

"So help me, if this has all been that boy's warped idea of a joke, he ain't gonna know what hit him…"

"Of course not!" Lorna snapped at her, then took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. It being Bobby, Rogue's assumption was…well, not warranted, but not out of the realm of possibility, either. Except, she _knew_ better. Bobby was many things, but he wasn't really much of an actor, not for long durations. And there was no way he could have faked his way through this so long, not given his obvious distaste for his 'secondary mutation'. He very obviously believed he _was_ stuck in his ice form. She just didn't understand why.

"He doesn't know," she forced out, shrugging. "And he doesn't believe me…" Her voice tapered off again. Why _should_ he believe her? She wasn't entirely sure she believed herself.

"Maybe you'd best clue me in on what's going on then?" Rogue replied softly, tilting her head slightly as if analyzing Lorna's face. "C'mon, let's go get some coffee. You can tell me all about it."

"Thought you just said to limit my caffeine intake?" Lorna countered with a hint of a smirk, more than a little relieved that the other woman was taking her seriously. Maybe Rogue could figure out what was going on. She hoped so. It certainly wasn't making a whole lot of sense to her.

"Well, you can have decaf, then" Rogue replied as she began heading off toward the cafeteria, and Lorna chuckled a bit as she followed her, almost oblivious, for once, to the staring, whispering students who'd witnessed their conversation.

"I hate decaf," Lorna replied, wrinkling her nose. "I vote I drink _real _coffee, and you take your chances," she added with the first genuine smile she'd made since she'd gotten out of bed that morning.

Rogue waved her suggestion aside. "So, drink caffeinated, see where it gets ya. And then go burn it off in a session with Alex or something. Just stay away from me 'til you get it out of your system."

"Deal," Lorna replied, suppressing the shudder that surfaced as Rogue mentioned Alex's name, relieved that the other woman wasn't looking her way. Because…well, she didn't entirely think Bobby's concerns on the subject were justified, but she wasn't dismissing them completely, either. Given the nature of the history between herself and Alex Summers, she wasn't entirely willing to rule anything out. Safeties or no, she wasn't about to venture into the Danger Room with him alone. He'd tried to kill her at least once before. She wasn't about to give him a second chance.

One more reason, of course, for their history to remain just that. History.


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Still don't own the X-Men. I wish I did, because I'd love to save them from some of the creators currently writing the books, but such is life ;)

Much thanks to Jen1703 for being an awesome beta-reader, and to Kate for pestering me until I posted the next chapter. Sorry about the delay - it was the result of computer problems.

* * *

**Fractured Psyches**

**Chapter 2**

"You know, my thermally challenged friend, unless you are attempting to divine the future from the swirling of the coffee within your cup – an unorthodox method, at best – I should think it would be of far more use consumed than merely observed."

Bobby looked up from his coffee cup and half-smiled at his oldest friend. "Hey, beats some of the methods that the divination teacher used in Harry Potter," he protested, gesturing for Hank to take a seat at the table, eyes unconsciously shifting from the other man's face.

Despite all the times he'd seen Hank's appearance change and change back over the years, this was the first transformation that truly made him uncomfortable, much though he refused to admit it. There was little left of what he'd always considered "Hank" in the other man's face now; even his eyes had changed this time. It was disconcerting, to say the least, and while he normally tried to push it aside, there were days when it was just easier not to quite look.

He had to wonder, sometimes, if Hank felt the same way now about him.

There was no sign of any such emotion in his friend's voice, at least, as Hank chuckled into his own cup, and despite himself Bobby found himself smiling as well.

"You must admit, though, that Professor Trelawney's methods were somewhat lacking in accuracy," Hank pointed out. "Are yours proving more efficacious?"

"Not so as you'd notice," Bobby conceded, taking a drink from the cup and feeling the luke-warm coffee drain down his throat with a grimace. He'd been more than a little afraid, early on, that drinking it hot would somehow cause him to melt. Luckily, cautious experimentation had proven him wrong. He really hated the way coffee tasted when cold, and lukewarm wasn't a whole lot better.

"So, if not the future, what truths are you seeking in the depths of your coffee cup?" Hank asked.

"Honestly, Hank?" Bobby asked, looking directly across the table at his friend. "I'm not even sure. Just thinking, I guess."

"Skipping the expected and untruthful response that that's an unusual pass-time in which to indulge," Bobby wrinkled his nose at Hank, who pretended to ignore it and continued, "I'll simply ask whether or not you're thinking of anything in particular? Or anyone?" Hank's eyes twinkled mischievously, and for a moment Bobby saw a spark of the Hank he knew, buried beneath the catlike exterior.

Chuckling, he rubbed at the back of his neck. "Neither and both, I guess. I'm worried about Lorna," he admitted, shrugging.

Hank's expression shift to one of concern. "Is she evidencing new symptoms?" he asked.

Bobby quickly shook his head. "Nothing new, no," he admitted, then glanced around the semi-crowded cafeteria. Not the best place for a private talk, maybe; but these days you were hard-pressed to find privacy anywhere in the Institute. It was a far cry from the School for Gifted Youngsters he'd entered as a shell-shocked 16-year-old. He missed the days when he could wander around the entire mansion, never seeing anyone if he didn't want to, though at that age he hadn't really considered that a positive thing. Back then, he would've loved for there to have been more students. Now?

Well, much as he loved his role as student advisor, he'd trade it in a heartbeat some days just to have a conversation without a few dozen people immediately in earshot.

"Robert, have you developed a case of paranoia rivaling that of our esteemed former teammate Bishop, or are you simply experiencing some sort of muscular spasm in your neck?"

"A what?"

Hank sighed dramatically and shook his head. "Are you trying to work out a cramp in your neck, or would you like to speak somewhere privately? We could go down to the Medlab if you wish, or to one of the laboratories…"

"Um, no, pass on that," Bobby replied quickly, eyes dropping back to his coffee. Not going to the medlab. Nope. Once, it had simply been Hank's favorite hiding place, unless there'd been injuries after a mission. He still had fond memories of dragging Hank out of it, or harassing him mercilessly when he got overly involved in an experiment and wouldn't leave. But now… now it was just a reminder that they couldn't find any definitive explanation of why he'd transformed into solid ice. As if he needed reminders.

Hank sighed. "Bobby, it's not as if I'm going to strap you to a table and perform indescribable tests upon your unwilling body. I simply thought…" his voice tapered off and he shook his head.

Bobby sighed. "Yeah, I know," he admitted grudgingly with a sheepish shrug of his shoulders. "I just don't want to think about it right now, y'know? Enough other things on my mind."

"Well, perhaps if you shared some of them, I might be able to alleviate some of your concerns? Or at least offer unsolicited and ineffectual advice that will serve to make me feel useful?" Hank offered.

Bobby chuckled at the almost pleading expression on his friend's face, and sighed dramatically. "Fine, you win – you always do."

Hank nodded and looked amused. "Well, perhaps always is a bit of an exaggeration," he conceded. "But with considerable frequency, at any rate. Now," he held up one furry paw and raised an eyebrow. "Before you can change the subject, at which I must concede you excel, you were saying?"

Bobby shrugged. "You heard about our most recent experience with interplanetary invaders, I'm guessing?"

"Ah yes, Golgotha," Hank mused, his eyes glazing over as he fell into "scientist mode". "A fascinating phenomenon, to say the least. I truly wish I might have had the opportunity to analyze it myself, though Emma was quite correct about the determined course of action, given the potential consequences of cataloguing a sample for further study. I do however wish that –"

"Hold it right there, Hank," Bobby broke in before his head could begin swimming any more than it already had. "This isn't about you wanting to stick bits of alien life under a microscope," he pointed out, grinning as he watched Hank's fur nearly bristle.

"I'll have you know that… no, no. You are quite correct," Hank conceded, pushing his glasses slightly further up his muzzle with one furry paw. "You'll forgive me for waxing enthusiastic?"

"Have I ever not?" Bobby joked, then shook his head. "Anyway, we took off for the space station, and Lorna was pretty freaked out, you know? I mean, we all were," he corrected, "but I was worried and suggested she stay behind on the station. I mean, I know it would've been harder, but hey, we're the X-Men. What are a few dozen aliens when it comes right down to it?"

"Your confidence in the abilities of your teammates is overwhelming," Hank deadpanned. "I'm guessing Lorna took exception to your well meaning, but undoubtedly condescending, attempt at demonstrating your concern?"

Bobby shot Hank and indignant look before shaking his head slowly. "Well… no. That's the thing. I think she might have actually taken me up on it, except Alex jumped in and damn near ordered her out there, insisting that they had to form the nucleus of the attack. Teamed me up with Gambit, which was okay, except… well, before long we lost contact with Alex and Lorna."

"Which, I presume, caused you no little anxiety?" Hank inserted, raising his eyebrows in encouragement.

"You could say that," Bobby admitted, then shrugged. "I mean, I know some of my paranoia was probably caused by being out there with exploding B-movie, psychosis-inducing aliens, but – hey, even Logan agreed. Alex has been acting awfully weird with Lorna. Both before and after the crap with Golgotha. I'm worried, Hank. I mean, I'm no team leader, but I don't think she should've been out there. And when I found her, she was just… totally zoned out. Blank. And all Havok said was that she knew the risks…" His eyes dropped back into his coffee, blinking but otherwise not moving a moment later when he felt a fuzzy hand on his arm.

"I understand your concern, Robert, but surely you don't think…"

"I don't know what to think," Bobby admitted. "I mean – yeah, it turned out Lorna was okay. But what if she isn't, next time? I was convinced Alex was trying to kill her, Hank, and I'm not all that sure, even now that Golgotha's affects have worn off, that he wasn't. That he isn't. He's up to something – something other than just trying to break us up," he inserted before Hank had a chance to protest. "I've been having non-stop nightmares about it ever since, and I know Lorna's worried, even if she's trying to pretend she isn't."

Hank sighed, and Bobby looked up to see a concerned expression on his friend's face.

"I'm not sure what to tell you," Hank said slowly. "I concede that Alex's behavior has been odd since his emergence from his coma; well, before that as well, if truth be told. But it's hard to imagine that he would intentionally harm Lorna, under any circumstances."

"Yeah well, not like he hasn't before," Bobby grumbled. "Did you know he shot her full force at point blank, once? Sent her into cardiac arrest?"

"I'd… heard something of the sort," Hank conceded reluctantly, "but I was under the impression he was under mind-control of some sort at the time."

Bobby shrugged. "No one's all that sure," he replied. "Anyway, I know this sounds as if this is just some personal vendetta against Alex, but… okay, maybe it is, a little," he admitted grudgingly, mouth quirking just a bit on one side. "I don't like him, I don't trust him, and the feeling's obviously mutual considering that he tells me daily just how much he dislikes and mistrusts me. But it's more than just that," he insisted, and let out a sigh of relief as Hank nodded.

"I can see that. Perhaps I should have a talk with Alex, as a disinterested third party," Hank suggested. "The fitness reports are due today, and if he's raised any concerns about Lorna's competence, I'm quite sure that Scott will consult me, in lieu of a more qualified resident physician."

"And if he doesn't?" Bobby asked leadingly.

"And if he doesn't, I shall broach the matter with Scott myself," Hank assured him. "You know, that route is open to you as well. I'm quite sure that Scott would be open to any concerns you may have on the subject…"

Bobby shrugged. "Given my history with Alex, and the fact it's his brother? I half figured he'd toss me out on my ass, to be honest."

Hank sighed and rolled his eyes skyward. "Hardly. You underestimate the affection and esteem the senior of the Summers brothers bears for his original teammates, as always. I assure you Scott would be open to anything you had to say. And now, if you're quite done not-eating and drinking, perhaps we should take our leave of this charming yet rather institutional dining establishment? I have an appointment with an anatomy class in less than fifteen minutes, though we can continue talking en route, should you care to join me."

"Yeah, I'll walk along," Bobby said as he got to his feet and collected his now cold coffee and plate. While he felt relieved that he'd gotten the problem off his chest, and even more so that Hank was going to take action on it, he wasn't entirely sure his friend was right about this. "As for Scott – I don't know, Hank. I have the feeling this is something Scott wouldn't want to get in the middle of."

* * *

"I don't want to hear this, Alex," Scott said as he paced the confines of his office.

He rarely paced, and it irked him that he was doing it now. Despite the fact he knew he wasn't nervous, pacing was something people often considered a nervous habit; not the image he preferred to project, whether as the leader of the various X-Teams or the headmaster of the school. Thus, it was a luxury he rarely indulged in.

At the moment, though, he felt it was totally justified. Especially considering that the alternative was probably punching his brother in the nose.

"But Scott, if you'll just look at what I've written," Alex complained, and Scott fought an urge to wince at the hint of whine in his voice. He didn't need this. He'd given his brother a chance at the team leadership he knew the younger man desperately wanted, simply because it _was_ Alex, and he'd been through so much the last few years.

He was seriously beginning to wonder if that had been a mistake.

Sighing, he took a deep breath and shook his head. "Alex, I've looked at what you've written. Just as I've looked at the last set of progress reports. And the answer is still no. I will not remove Bobby from your team. If I was going to remove X-Men for being insubordinate, I would have kicked Logan back to Canada years ago."

Which, he had to admit, at least to himself, he'd been tempted to do more than once. But common sense had always prevailed.

Apparently, common sense was something Alex was lacking, these days.

"It's more than simple insubordination," Alex complained, his voice growing louder. "He's constantly undermining my authority within the team. God, we were in outer space and he was trying to convince Logan that…"

Alex's voice tapered off, and Scott's head snapped around, eyeing his brother curiously.

"That what?" he asked, knowing the answer full well. While Alex might choose to ignore it, the other team members had also written mission briefings. Certain things had been suspiciously absent from Alex, Bobby, and Lorna's reports, but Logan, Rogue, Remy, and Emma had had no qualms about reporting the details. And while he didn't necessarily subscribe to Bobby's theory that Alex had been forcing Lorna into some sort of "if I can't have her, no one will" situation, Alex had deliberately omitted the details of the altercation from his report for some reason. Things didn't add up, plain and simple. And incomplete puzzles drove Scott utterly insane.

"That… that Lorna wasn't competent to participate in the mission," Alex stammered, his expression wavering for a moment before he pulled himself together, his jaw setting. "Which is utter nonsense. Why, if it hadn't been for Lorna…"

"Was she competent?" Scott tossed back, turning to fix Alex with a glare, despite the fact his glasses masked the expression. His brother was lying, or at least not telling the truth. But they might as well get to the bottom of this, first. He'd has his own suspicions about Lorna Dane's competency for some time, and had included her in the last team-build for the simple reason that the Professor had thought it might be therapeutic for her to spend some time with her teammates. Not for her to be sent out as the crucial link of a plan with as high of stakes as the fight against the Golgotha creatures.

"You've seen my reports," Alex began, cutting off abruptly as Scott shook his head.

"Yes, I've seen your reports. And I've read the Professor's, and Emma's, and those of the other members of the team involved in the mission. And I'm asking you, Alex… if it wasn't Lorna, would she have even _been_ on that mission? In that state she's in?"

Scott watched, his expression cold and unreadable, as Alex opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again, his jaw setting hard.

"Are you implying I'm lying?" Alex asked. "Y'know, there was a time you gave me the benefit of the doubt."

"There was a time when you deserved it," Scott countered, expression still inscrutable as he met his brother's eyes. "Can you _honestly _say Lorna was competent to be on that mission, Alex? She was seeing things in space. From the sounds of it, she nearly went comatose. Now, I wasn't there, but –"

"No, you weren't. I was. I fully stand behind my decisions. Lorna _was_ competent, or at least, competent enough. We needed her."

"Competent _enough_?" Scott demanded, pounding his fist down hard on his desk. "Listen to you, Alex. I can't even believe you're saying this. There is no such thing as competent enough. You should have found another way, end of story." Turning his back, he shook his head. "Lorna's removed from active duty, pending a psychological examination and some serious R&R. In fact, she and Bobby are both officially on leave." While it rankled to give in to Alex's obviously prejudicial demands, perhaps getting Bobby out from under Alex would give them both a chance to calm down. Obviously, his initial idea that they'd learn respect for each other if they were forced to work together hadn't worked, maybe this would. Turning his back on Alex, he added, "With any luck, you can take the time to pull yourself together. You may want to spend some reviewing a few of your recent reports. They've been sketchy in some areas."

"You can't do this, Scott," Alex seethed. "You're taking away two of my team members. After something like this – it's going to seem as if you're siding with Drake."

Alex had never understood it, Scott realized. He wasn't sure if he ever would. But he'd try, one last time.

"It's not about you, Alex. It's not about Bobby, or Lorna. It's about the team, Alex, and the Dream. That's why we're here, that's why we're all here."

He shook his head, ignoring Alex's attempts at rebuttal, until finally, Alex turned and left the office, the door slamming shut behind him.

* * *

Alex stormed down the hallway, oblivious to the curious and apprehensive stares students cast in his direction.

Scott had sided with the icy little shit.

Sure, he'd removed Bobby from the team. Which, he supposed, should make him happy. But he'd also removed Lorna.

Happy simply wasn't an option.

No matter what Scott had said, Alex didn't for one minute believe this had anything to do with the team. Or Xavier's dream, for that matter. Xavier'd run off somewhere, God and Emma knew where, and as far as Alex was concerned the man had taken his dream right along with him. And the only thing that had been wrong with his team was that Drake had been on it.

Scott was full of it. More than likely, Emma'd been at him before Alex had ever set foot in his office. Or Drake had been in there whining, one of the two. But he would've thought Scott would have had the balls to stand up for his own brother.

Obviously, he was on his own.

He slowed his pace a bit as he considered his options. Maybe things weren't quite as bad as they seemed. Bobby was out of his hair, and however that had come about, it had been his main goal. And Lorna…

An idea struck, and a slight smile spread on his face. He could salvage this. He just had to prove to Scott that Lorna could handle the stress of a mission, and she'd be reinstated. A danger room sim should do that, and he had little doubt that Lorna, removed from Bobby's condescending, patronizing influence, would do just fine. She just needed to snap out of it.

He sped up, his stride purposeful rather than simply angry. He'd find Lorna, take her through a simulation, and present Scott with the results. And everything would be just fine.

* * *

"You want to grab a table, Ah'll get the coffee?" Rogue asked.

Lorna seemed to snap out of a daze. Which wasn't so surprising, really; seemed she had a lot on her mind today. Rogue couldn't exactly blame her, though she had to wonder why Lorna'd gone and picked her, of all people, to offload on.

Or maybe not so surprising, really. She and Bobby'd been friends for years, though they'd fallen out of the habit lately. Too much on both their minds, and it didn't help none that she'd run off on the search for Destiny's diaries without him. It'd seemed like a good plan at the time; none of them had been quite sure how he would have reacted to the news they were keeping their hunt a secret from the Prof. Now, though, she had to wonder. Just what had happened to Bobby Drake that made him, deep down, figure it'd better just to be ice once and for all?

If Lorna was right, anyway. And damn, but she didn't honestly know if she should believe her or not. Seemed awfully farfetched.

'Course, so did most of the stuff in her own past, so she didn't have a whole lot of room to talk.

"Sounds good," Lorna replied, a faint smile spreading on her face. "No decaf, though. We made a deal."

"Do Ah look like I'm arguin' with you, Sugar?" Rogue replied, rolling her eyes at the other woman. "Want cream or sugar in it?"

"Black's fine," Lorna replied, and Rogue watched her head off toward a table, pausing only to wave at Bobby and Hank who were leaving by another door. Other eyes were glued to the green-haired woman, though; curious students, whispering amongst themselves. Rogue's jaw set hard as she turned her back and headed for the buffet. Damn, but why didn't Scott or Emma do somethin' about that? Sure, Lorna'd lost it back at her aborted wedding and knocked 'em all out. Wasn't like things like that didn't happen daily 'round here, you'd think the students'd be used to it by now. And all Scott would've had to have done was make an announcement that someone'd taken over her head, and it would've put a stop to all this crap.

'Course, given Lorna's history, maybe that wasn't such a good explanation, after all. Some things a body just didn't want to think about any more than necessary. She had a few of those herself, currently including a red and black eyed Cajun who was probably still sleepin' where she'd left him.

In her room. In the other bed.

Shaking her head, she poured out two cups of coffee and added sugar to hers, even as she pushed all thoughts of Remy and yesterday's 'therapy' session right back where they belonged, into a nice little corner of her mind where she kept crap that just wasn't worth thinking about. Hopefully, they'd stay there for once. Or at least, they'd stay there long enough for her to find out whether Lorna'd popped another screw loose or there really was somethin' to what she was yammering about.

It was hard to block it all away, though. She and Remy…they'd had it all, for a while. No powers, no commitments to anything but each other. It should've been as close to Eden as anything Emma could project into their heads.

Instead, they'd both let Sage jump-start them back to just what they'd been before. And she wasn't fooling herself to think that it was just for the team, either.

Enough of that. Casting an apologetic smile at one of Emma's advisees who was waiting for her turn at the coffee – she thought her name was Cecily, but she wasn't all that sure – she picked up the Styrofoam cups and headed off to where Lorna'd sat down.

"Crazy 'round here these days," she observed, shaking her head as she set the cups down and gestured vaguely at the cafeteria, which seemed to be filling up awfully fast. Must be the second morning rush, the one where students had had class too early, or slept too late, to get to the dining hall when it actually opened. Honestly, even with help and extra arms, damned if she could figure out how the cook could keep all these kids fed. "Seems like they're just poppin' up out of the woodwork lately. Make all the fussin' we all did about fallin' over each other back in the day seem pretty damn ridiculous," she added, smiling as she sat down across from the other woman.

"My father –" Lorna broke off, then continued as Rogue nodded encouragement. With Mystique as a momma, she wasn't about to think bad of Lorna for bein' Eric's daughter. 'Specially considering there was a time when she'd been pretty fond of the man, herself. "He thinks it may have something to do with what Sinister and the High Evolutionary did a couple of years ago. That when they played games with the x-factor, they inadvertently turned on a huge number of those that would have naturally remained latent." She shrugged crookedly and raised her steaming cup, then blew across it gently. "It seems as good a theory as any."

"And better than most've the ones I've heard tossed about," Rogue agreed, taking a tentative sip from her own cup and wincing. Hot – must've just finished brewin' before she'd got there. "Where's that damn boyfriend of yours when he could actually be put to good use, anyway?" she grumbled, setting her cup down on the table and leaning back in the chair.

"He's not –" Lorna's voice broke off again, and Rogue looped up from her cup to see a faint blush on the other woman's cheeks.

"You're roomin' with him, the two of you've got your hands all over each other practically every time I turn around, and you're gonna try an' tell me you're not dating," Rogue stated rather than asked.

"I guess we are," Lorna conceded, rubbing her temple with her fingers.

Rogue rolled her eyes heavenward. Honestly, the girl was as bad as Bobby. They obviously deserved each other, even if neither of them deserved all the other random crap that'd been tossed at them lately.

Which brought her back to the subject at hand. Just what the blazes was Lorna on about, anyway?

Leaning in over the table, Rogue quirked an eyebrow expectantly. "So, ya gonna fill me in on what's going on with this maybe not-so-icy as we all think boyfriend o'yours?"

Lorna scrubbed her hand over her face for a moment before replying, and Rogue nobly fought back a desire to reach out and shake her. Honestly, ask a simple question, it'd be nice to get a simple answer just once in a while. Lorna's answer, when it finally came, wasn't all that satisfying, either.

"Honestly, Rogue? I'm not sure," she replied, dropping her hand into her lap and sinking into the chair – no small feat, considering these chairs were about as hard as some rocks she'd sat on. "Maybe Bobby's right and I just imagined it, after all…"

"Well, just for the heck of it, why don't we jus pretend for a bit that you're not out of your skull while ya tell me what you _think_ is going on," Rogue countered impatiently.

Lorna bristled visibly, and Rogue braced herself for impact. Surprisingly, though, Lorna seemed to deflate, nodding slowly. More worried than she wanted to let on, most likely, which didn't do much for her own concerns.

"I had a nightmare last night," Lorna began slowly without looking up from her lap.

Rogue nodded encouragement once again. She'd been having quite her share of those lately too, and so had Remy – probably leftover garbage floating around in their heads after the latest mess they'd been through. Always seemed to be something, lately.

She frowned in confusion, though, shaking her head as Lorna described the event of the previous night. Damned if it made sense to her, but then, she'd never been real clear on how the whole secondary mutation thing worked anyway, other than to hope to hell she didn't develop one herself. Her powers sucked more than enough just how they were, she didn't need them messed with further.

Not, so far as she knew, that it'd even really been confirmed that Bobby's transformation had jack shit to do with a secondary mutation, anyway. If the boy had ever just said something while he still had flesh and blood DNA for Hank to run tests on, but no. He'd had to go and play his damn game of "if I just ignore it, it'll go away." It was frustrating as hell, 'specially since she knew damn well she would've done the same thing. And while part of her was tempted to dismiss Lorna's story as a dream or some sort of weird delusion, it seemed everyone did that way too much with Lorna as it was. And they'd been wrong to do so, nearly every time.

"So, what're ya thinkin' the deal is?" Rogue asked, taking a sip from her rapidly cooling coffee. "If he's flipping back to normal at night."

"I have no idea," Lorna admitted, pushing her bangs back out of her eyes and shaking her head. Net result, bangs right back where they'd been originally. "And you know he's not going to step foot in the medlab."

"Course not," Rogue agreed. "That'd make way too much sense. Not that it'd probably matter – if it's all in his head somehow, not likely he'd change there anyway. Too uptight."

"What makes you think it's all in his head?" Lorna asked, her forehead creasing in confusion. "He's made no secret that he hates being stuck like this, and believe me, he's not faking that."

Rogue shook her head. She'd done her fair share and then some of reading Psychology texts over the years, what with a ton of different personalities flitting around in her head. "Doesn't mean it's not," she explained. "Not if some part of him's using it for something." She sighed and shook her head. "Wish I knew more of what Bobby'd been up to before this all came up. I know he had a rough year, but I don't know the details of it."

"Well, that should be easy enough to find –" Lorna's voice broke off, her eyes fixing on something behind Rogue, who turned to see what it was.

Alex. Lovely. Just who they needed in this conversation. Maybe they should hand out engraved invitations next time.

"Ladies," he began casually, smiling at them both. "I'm sorry to interrupt your coffee break, but I need to talk to Lorna for a moment."

Shit. Maybe she'd been wrong after all, and they were taking the green-haired woman off the team. 'Cept honestly, she couldn't picture Alex doing that. She wasn't sure if the idea Bobby had about stuff had anything to it, but it was pretty damn obvious to her that Alex was still hung up on his former girlfriend.

"What is it, Alex?" Lorna asked, voice tinged with mingled apprehension and annoyance.

Alex sighed as he walked around the table to stand between them, which was a whole lot better than swinging her head back and forth to watch the two of them talk.

"As part of your evaluation, Scott would like me to run you through a Danger Room sim, see how you're progressing," Alex said, and Rogue's eyebrows climbed higher. News to her; no one'd asked her to run a sim, which'd make a whole lot more sense, given that she'd actually lost her powers for a bit. "Do you have some time now?"

"I guess," Lorna replied slowly, forcing herself to her feet and casting a nervous look over at Rogue. "I'll see you later?" she asked.

Rogue nodded, climbing to her feet as well and retrieving her cup. "Yeah, look me up after your sim, would ya? I think we need to talk 'bout this some more. B'sides, you can rescue me from my therapy session with Emma," she smiled crookedly, rolling her eyes. "Tell her there's an emergency or something."

"Not helping?" Alex asked far too casually, pouncing on her comment, and Rogue bit her tongue so she wouldn't tell him to mind his own damn business. Honestly, this crap Emma'd come up with was bad enough without random observations from the peanut gallery.

"Not so far, but Emma says it'll take time," she admitted.

Alex nodded. "Well, we'll leave you to it, then," he replied.

Bristling a bit at the obvious dismissal, Rogue tossed what she hoped was a reassuring smile over at Lorna before heading out of the room, wondering what that had all been about. Alex had been acting awfully strange lately.

Maybe she should mention to someone that Alex had Lorna down in the Danger Room. Couldn't hurt nothing. And after that, she had a Cajun to dump out of bed and a therapy session to attend, for whatever good it would do either of them.

* * *

Likeit? Hate it? If youread it all the way to the end of the chapter, (and you must have if you're reading this!) click the Review button please!


End file.
